


Finish The Story

by PanMurphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanMurphy/pseuds/PanMurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first fic ! thats All thank you</p>
    </blockquote>





	Finish The Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ! thats All thank you

John Murphy sat on the ground behind the watchtower, drawing letters in the dirt. "B. E. L. L. A. M. Y," he softly sounded out as he tried his hardest to write his lover's name neatly with a stick. Bellamy was part of a rescue team that Pike had sent out a week prior, and in the months before he'd left, he had been teaching Murphy how to read and write. The younger boy had been practicing what he'd been taught nonstop so he could show Bellamy how good he'd gotten when he gets back. 

He smiled at the word he'd made in the soil, and then wiped it away with his small, fragile hands. Murphy stood up cautiously, checking to make sure nobody had seen him practicing skills that most of the children in Arkadia already excelled at. Nobody had. He wiped off his pants and began shuffling back to his and Bellamy's cabin. 

The loud creaking of the gate stopped Murphy in his tracks. Every time he heard that sound, he always got this pang of hope that maybe it would be Bellamy walking through that gate, unharmed. This was only half the case, this time. 

"Make way! MOVE, get out of the way! Someone get him to medical, quickly, please!" Miller was shouting with the most panic Murphy had heard since he witnessed the commander pass away. He ran to the scene of commotion, and through the crowd of people, glimpsed Miller carrying a wounded man in his arms, and Jackson shoving through the dense gathering with a stretcher. 

"What happened, Nathan?" Jackson said, trying to stay calm.

"I don't- he… I was just going back to-and he-Azgeda-" Miller was struggling with words. 

"Nathan, please calm down and tell me what happened. Abby, please get him to medical station. Now."

Miller continued trying his hardest to tell Jackson the story through tears, as Abby rushed to take the wounded man to medical. Murphy's heart was racing. Miller was one of the people on the mission with Bellamy, and that wounded man could easily be him. John pushed through everyone to try and look at the man Abby was taking away. Once she disappeared into the building, he followed her in at a safe distance, but soon enough it was too late for him to be sneaky anymore. 

"Abby-," Murphy began, but stopped mid sentence, for the man on the stretcher coughing and fighting for his life made eye contact with him. It was Bellamy. 

"Murphy," Bellamy whispered with such faintness it could barely be heard, "Abby says I'm not going to make it. Ice nation- I let them catch me off guard." He revealed a gaping puncture wound in his chest. 

The younger boy was at a loss for words. Tears were streaming down his frail face; more than those that had been there when the grounders tortured him for the first time. 

"Bellamy, I- I'm not going to let you die," he fell to the ground near his boyfriend's side, and Bellamy stroked his hair lightly. 

"It's going to be okay. I promise. You're going to be okay." 

"I can't live without you, Bellamy. What am I supposed to do? You're the only person that’s ever loved me after my father. I need you."

Bellamy couldn’t find any words to say. He was the one who was dying, but he was more worried about the 17 year old boy by his side than himself. He always had been. He forced a smile. 

"Hey, John, remember that book I gave you a few months ago?"

Murphy nodded weakly. 

"Have you been practicing what I taught you?"

Another nod. 

"Would you like to read it to me? I want to hear how good you’ve gotten."

The younger boy reached in his jacket pocket to pull out the book he'd kept with him ever since Bellamy had given it to him. He opened it up to the first page. 

"Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Pe-leus.. lee-yus.. layus, that brought countless ills upon the A-ach-achae- never mind. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of A-tre-us, king of men, and great A-chill-eeees, first fell out with one another."

He struggled with nearly every name over a syllable long, and exaggerated vowels as he tried to pronounce things. Bellamy smiled as Murphy read the book with deep concentration. 

"And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pes-til-ence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atr-atree-"

"Atreus." Bellamy corrected. 

Murphy blushed at that, a bit embarrassed, but continued on ",had dishonoured Chr-yyyy-ses his priest. Now Chry-ses had come to the ships of the A-chae-ans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the se-sep-septer.. sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant's wreath and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs."

Murphy looked up at Bellamy, whose soulful brown eyes were gazing at him with adoration.

"I'm so proud of you John," Bellamy brushed Murphy's limp brown hair out of his eyes, "I told you you'd be able to read it well one day. I can tell you've been practicing a lot."

"I have," Murphy leaned into Bellamy's touch, "Every day."

"Keep going, I want to finish the story."

"Haven't you already read this book multiple times?"

"Yes, but its better hearing it from you."

With tears pooled in his eyes, he focused on the next paragraph.

"'Sons of Atreus,' he cried, 'and all other Achaeans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove,'" he turned the page softly, doing his best to keep the book in good condition, "On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Aga-agam-memon..menm-memn- Bellamy what word is this?"

Murphy glanced up, awaiting an answer. Bellamy's eyes were closed. He began to panic. 

"Bell?" he scrambled onto his feet and crouched beside Bellamy, "Bell? Bell. Please, no.. no wait. Bellamy." His hands trembled as he checked to see if the only person he had still had a pulse. He didn't. In complete hysteria, he called for Abby, and was screaming Bellamy's name at the top of his lungs. "Please wake up! Bellamy please wake up you're all I have. You can’t leave, Bellamy, please. We never got to hear the end of the story- Bell. Come back. We have to finish the story,"

Abby appeared in the doorway, but halted as soon as she saw the situation. "I'm sorry, John."

"Don’t call me that," he looked back at the stretcher and ran his fingers through Bellamy's disheveled curls; tears streamed down his cheeks, "we gotta finish the story."

He reached for the book he'd dropped on the ground, "who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. "Old man," said he, "let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you."


End file.
